Slavery

‘This is a nightmare’ Lorelei thought to herself as fear crept its way across every nerve in her body in the dead of night of her family’s house. She was a calm and objective girl of 18 years, blessed with a slim figure, a modest D-cup, fair skin, and shiny brown hair, but the latter two descriptors would be difficult to tell now. This was no thanks to the skin-tight latex black bodysuit and Gwen hood that left everything but the bridge over her eyes covered and constrained, complimented by a black leather armbinder that kept her arms pinned behind her between her body and bed. The ebon attire was not something she donned willingly or even consciously given that earlier in the night she had the misfortune of having a damp sickly sweet rag shoved in her face by a large unknown man in what appeared to a black morph suit that obscured his face and body tone. Unconsciousness fell over her quickly before she had the chance to fight him off, and by the time she came to, she had already been laid on her bed as well as stripped and redressed into the fetish gear, just in time to be jolted awake by the sharp pain of his penis piercing through her virgin hymen via the discreet holes in both of their suits. ...

Author's Note: This concept story is in the form of a news article about a FemDom city state. It is an attempt to build a vaguely plausible fictional reality in which other stories could be written. This mostly sets the scene for stories to follow. Following months of requests I was the first international journalist to be granted access to secretive city state of Femina. Femina was one of the many small states to appear following the collapse of the former Russian Federation. It’s apparent stability and prosperity meant it outlived most of the others that appeared in the vacuum of power. However it’s secrecy has led to wild stories and speculation backed up by precious little evidence. ...

Author's Note: this is sort of a dark fantasy of mine, while I’m 33, single, only did it with one lady, and am quite straight, the idea of sliding into a simple lifestyle without challenge always held some allure to me Chapter 1 I’m Brandon and I figured I’d write a few sentences about life with Jessy, my best friend and my girl. She is cute and we met in a local mall, and she gets me more sex than I can handle. Her hair changes colors seemingly weekly, although normally a purple streak or two is involved. Today she is a blonde, some black at the roots, and yes purple above the eyes. Jessy is green eyed, just a hair shorter than me, and about my age (28) though considerably more ‘perky’. But on paper all relationships look like sun and rainbows. Even across the way they tend to seem sweeter than what either participant might consider. ...

Chapter 1 I’ve never got on well with alarm clocks, and this morning was no exception. The annoying mixture of buzzes and beeps coming from the other side of the room was always enough to get me out of bed, no matter how much I wanted to wrap myself in the comforting snugness of my duvet and avoid the real world. But today was a day full of lectures, and my grades would suffer if I missed them. ...

On her way to the office Mistress had stopped for coffee and a pastry at her favorite shop. Slave Ron - which she wrote as slaveron - was left outside, his apadravya ring fastened to a fence with a padlock, the chain hanging down. Having no choice, he stood quietly waiting, staring at the wall. “Is that really your penis in there?” a girl’s voice asked. He couldn’t see up, or even at normal eye level, but his view downward was unobstructed and he could see a hand pointing to the flexible stainless steel tube that enclosed his member, with its gleaming cap pierced by a D-ring, his apadravya ring. He couldn’t turn his body very far - and his head not at all - but shuffling around as far as he could he was able to see a teenage girl connected to the hand, with two more girls behind her. Just their bodies, he couldn’t look up far enough to see their faces. The neck corset with its struts prevented him from nodding or shaking his head and his permanent tracheostomy and the tube in his throat left him unable even to grunt, but he could bow from the waist. ...

Author's Note: For Miss Patricia Recently online I found Miss Patricia. Other than what her profile states I don’t know much about her. I haven’t even seen a photo of her as her profile has only images of a sub bound in some rather delightful ways. The only description I have of her is that she is 44, 5'5" tall and is African American. Just some of the items listed in her profile include: Orgasm control, chastity, CBT, collars, bondage, queening, canes and crops, blindfolds… wait right there. Blindfolds and masks. That reminds me of one of my most exciting experiences. It involved my previous Mistress Rebekah. She recently moved about 1200 miles away so needless to say I am now available. ...

Chapter 1 Violetta met Kevin at one of her father’s many business parties, and immediately took an interest in the boy. He was handsome, somewhat well-built, and had an impish smile that told her that he was used to getting his way. Her eyes narrowed, and she began slinking through the party in her sparkling green cocktail dress, pacing behind him, watching his every move. Violetta was also used to getting her way. She was tall, pale, and bore herself with a regal authority that brooked no protest or dissent. Her vivid gold-and-copper hair flowed down her back to her knees, contrasting against the sage green of the dress to frame her nearly-impossible curves just so. Violetta used her body as both lure and weapon, and tonight Kevin was going to be her prey. ...

Author's Note: This story is based on fantasies of my co-author, an Asian college girl depicted in the story as the victim. My character is the evil Dentist and her abductor. The other main character is based on a friend of mine and her parts are written by both authors. The beginning of each chapter is from my character’s perspective and the end of each from hers. Update (11/13/11): I would also like to thank our readers for their comments, encouragements and patience. Here is the end of that day, and our story, but undeniably a new beginning for Jennifer. ...

Author's Note: We were asked by several to write a new story and we are back now. This one explores even deeper fantasies of my beautiful Asian co-author, whose character is again the victim. Though the premise and title may be similar, we think you will find this story is more intriguing in its twists and turns. My character is again the dominant figure. Also as before the first of each chapter is from the dominant’s perspective, the last of each from the victim’s. We appreciate your votes and comments and hope you enjoy reading it as much as we did writing it. I admit there were times it seemed the story was controlling the authors instead of the other way around. ...

Author's Note: A bondage model stops acting and starts living the life of a bound prisoner Part 1 I wake up, very groggy, not remembering the night before. The last thing I remembered, I was at a bondage photo shoot. It was going to be my last shoot since I made enough money to finish paying for college. I was put in a strait jacket while wearing sexy black latex stockings. My ankles were tied together so I was pretty helpless. I playfully struggled as an actress dressed s a nurse pinned me down. She used a Hitachi wand on me. Yet another sat on my legs and tickled my helpless latex encased feet. It was a scene about a mental patient needing an unconventional therapy. I didn’t really buy the premise, but it certainly was fun to act out. I was enjoying myself quite a bit. I love being bound and helpless since I trust the producer a lot. I feel safe when bound and forget all my worries. I love the strait jacket so much I sometimes ask to be left in it after the scene ends for an hour or 2. I was moaning pretty loudly struggling and kicking against the tickling. I love being tickled on my sexy size 6 feet, but still love to struggle and try to resist it. All in a sudden I saw the nurse grab a ball gag. The producer knows my limits and a ball gag is one of them. I always remain able to speak so I can use my safeword. I tried to push them off me and stop the scene but I was pretty helpless. I screamed my safe word which was always respected in the past. They shoved in the gag and lock it behind my head. As I screamed thought he gag, I was no longer enjoying the session and was horrified of what they would do next. The session went from play and me feeling safe to horror. Somehow the horror made the scene so much more intense. On what hand I hated them violating my limit, but on the other hand it was what I always fantasized about. I felt a rag go over my face. That’s the last thing I remembered. ...